Back to the Track
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Pops finds out that Speed's got a new hobby… 2008 Movieverse, takes place BEFORE the movie


Back to the Track

Back to the Track

Rating: K, 2008 movieverse

Synopsis: Pop finds out that Speed's got a new hobby… (based on information from the Target exclusive "Wonderful World of Racing" DVD)

Disclaimer: SO not mine. If you think they are, please consult a medical professional!

Sparky flinched as the phone began to ring, right next to his ear. Rolling off of the sofa he grabbed it up; shaking the last vestiges of sleep out of his eyes.

"Racer household." He mumbled. "Oh, hey Jock!" His eyes shot open. "No. No. No! Thanks, mate!" Dropping the phone back on the receiver he dashed for the front door.

The Racing Chronicle magazine was there in the mailbox as it was every Saturday afternoon. Pops had never had the heart to cancel the subscription. Speedy would bring it in and place it on the living room table where it would get pawed over by Speed; drawn on by young Spridle and eventually shredded by Chim-Chim.

Except this issue… this issue was different. This issue had a picture of a Racer on the cover for the first time in almost a decade.

And his name wasn't Rex or Pops.

Scrambling on the grass Sparky grabbed up the magazine and ran back towards the open garage door and the inviting garbage can just inside.

Except suddenly his path was blocked by the Racer patriarch who scowled as his mechanic friend pulled up to a halt, panting.

"What are you doing?" Pops glanced down at the magazine sticking out of Sparky's hand. "Since when did the Chronicle get you all excited like this?"

"Ah… nothing much." The Australian smiled, slapping the tabloid against his hip. "You know, always keeping up on the news."

"Hmph." He stretched out his hand. "You don't think I know when someone's trying to put one over on me?" The elder Racer's thick fingers wriggled. "Hand it over, Sparky."

The mechanic did so, flinching as the magazine unrolled in Pops' hands. He clapped his hands over his ears just in time.

"What?" The roar shook two hubcaps off of the workstation to their left, clanging to the ground. "What?" The trophies just inside the living room shifted slightly to one side. "What?" The roof of the house lifted a few millimeters, if only for a second.

It also startled the young couple driving up into the garage in the Mach 5.

Speed leapt out of the car without opening the door; charging into the garage and to Pops' side. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Trixie unfolded from the passenger side, catching up to the teenage Racer a few seconds later. Her eyes were wide as she took in the reddening face of the elder Racer.

"You two! Living room! Now!" The mustached ex-wrestler snarled as he pointed the way with the rolled up magazine in his hand. Wordlessly the couple trotted into the next room, sitting down on the couch next to each other.

"You…" Pops turned on Sparky. "You… clean this up!" He waved a hand at the spotless garage. The mechanic gave a weak salute and disappeared into the depths of the storage area.

"What are you yelling about?" Mom Racer appeared in the living room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "I just managed to get Spridle down for his nap and if you wake him up…" She stared at the two teenagers sitting on the couch and her enraged husband standing in front of them. "What's going on?"

"Do you know what these two have been up to?" Pops roared again, waving the magazine in the air.

The redhead's eyes went to Speed, then to Trixie who sat silently beside him, holding hands. Her eyes widened as she stared at the young brunette that had been her son's constant companion for years. "You're not…"

Speed jumped to his feet, his face red. "Mom, no!" He glanced down, shifting his weight from side to side. "I mean, we're girlfriend and boyfriend and all that, but we're not… ouch!" The teenager rubbed his left arm from where Trixie had punched him, her eyes glaring at him. "I mean, we're not… she's not…" He stared at his father, his voice rising an octave. "You wanted to talk to us?"

"What is this?" The irate man unrolled the Racing Chronicle; pushing it into the teenager's face. "What is this?"

"What is it?" Marching over Mom Racer plucked the tabloid from her husband's fingers. She stared at the cover, mouth open.

"You're… racing?" She flipped through the pages, stopping at the big story. "You're racing at Thunderhead? Ekpyrosis?" Her face went pale as she handed the magazine back to her husband. "Oh, Speed…"

The teenager raised his hands in the air. "Mom, it's not like that. Trixie and I, we were just hanging around the track and Venderhoss says 'Hey, kid – take her out if you want!' and tosses me the keys." A sheepish grin appeared on his face. "I mean, I couldn't say no."

"He was fantastic, Pops." Trixie exhaled from the couch. "He spun that car around like he had been driving it his whole life." She got to her feet, stepping forward to tuck her hand around Speed's arm. "He was… speed!"

Pops looked down at the cover, his face still red from the outburst. "Ekpyrosis." He shook his head. "They couldn't build a go-kart."

Mom nodded, moving to stand beside her husband. "Probably." She looked at her son who stood there, a confused look on his face as he shuffled his feet on the shag carpet. "But if he's going to drive…"

"Sparky!" The older man roared at the top of his lungs. "Sparky!"

The mechanic skittered into sight from the garage behind them, coming to a stop between the two teenagers and the parents. He glanced from one pair to the other, a panicky look on his face.

"If you're going to go out there and race at least go out there in a decent car!" The carchitect chuffed as he tossed the Racing Chronicle to one side. "Get those old blueprints out of the trunk!"

Speed stood there in shocked silence as his father rambled off a series of parts for Sparky to purchase along with preparations for not only modifications to the Mach 5 but also for a new model.

"And you…" Pops spun around to face Speed. "You better be as good as you say you are if I'm going to put all this work into those cars!"

"I'm that good. And better." The teenage driver puffed out his chest. "I'm a Racer!"

"Hmph." Mom flicked the dishtowel at her son, snapping it across his stomach. He flinched, rubbing the sore area. "And if you two keep any more secrets from us, well…" She nodded towards the garage. "You're not too big for me to put you over my knee, Mister Speed. And for me to ban you from the house, Trixie."

The brunette looked at the ground, her face showing the proper amount of contriteness. Her hand still squeezed Speed's arm tightly though, revealing her pleasure at the turn of events.

"You." Pops pointed at his grinning son. "You get your butt into the garage and dig out those coveralls. You're not going to just drive this car – you're going to help build it from the ground up." The thick finger moved over to the young lady standing beside him. "And you…" He glanced sideways at his wife. "You can start with making up a stack of sandwiches for us. Then you can get your own set of coveralls and make yourself useful." The elder Racer drew himself up to his full height, patting his stomach. "Might as well channel all that youthful energy into something productive." The approving look from his wife put a smile on the ex-wrestler's face. "Now get going before I change my mind, ground you both for the rest of your lives and dismantle that car!"

The two teenagers scrambled from sight; Trixie into the kitchen and Speed off into the garage where a resounding crash signaled his discovery of the boxes Sparky had so recently moved.

Pops turned to his wife, letting out a sigh. "I don't know what else to do, honey." He waved one hand towards the garage, still holding the magazine. "There's too much of his brother in him."

"And his father." Taking the tabloid from his fingers she kissed him on the cheek. "Which is what I'm afraid of. Just make him safe."

"Well, if I can't make him stop the least I can do is give him the darned best car to drive in." He chuckled. "And who knows? Maybe he'll win the Grand Prix one day."

"Not if you don't stop daydreaming and get back there before he cracks his skull open." Another loud crash emanated from behind them. "I'll be out soon enough with some sandwiches and drinks."

"Right." Clapping his hands together the head of Racer Motors grinned wider than he had in years. "Let's get to work!"


End file.
